


Notes

by WitchyBee



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Bad Decisions, Everyone Needs A Hug, Loneliness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-it Notes, Season/Series 04, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 01:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: In which there is a valiant effort to communicate.





	Notes

In all honesty, he doesn’t even really remember writing the first one.

Jon isn’t sure what else he expected, but having two of his ribs pulled out had been agonizing, Archivist powers or no, and the waves of intense pain continue to wash over him as he lies curled up on Basira’s cot. Sleep is out of the question. He heals faster now, but that doesn’t seem to apply in this case. Can’t heal what isn’t there anymore, he supposes.

Still, the sooner he recovers, the sooner he can save Daisy.

He needs a statement. Yes, that would help. A statement and...maybe one of those pills Melanie had taken for her leg. Jon rises from the cot and staggers to his office. He unceremoniously tosses the rib onto his desk and grabs the first statement he sees, switching on his tape recorder.

“Statement of–”

Click.

Jon glares at the tape recorder. He switches it on again.

“I said, statement–”

Click.

“Oh sure, it’s all about you, isn’t it, when you’re hungry for knowledge, but when I actually need... And I’m talking to a tape recorder. Okay.”

Backup plan then. He searches for a first aid kit, finding nothing except blank cassettes and cobwebs. He could really do with a bit of Knowing right now, but clearly the Eye isn’t in a generous mood. The archives have been in disarray since they all started living down here, and everyone is asleep except perhaps M–

Martin could help, his pain-addled brain suggests, heedless of all details and logic. Martin always helps. A thought that is, in hindsight, definitely too selfish and idiotic not to be his own. But before Jon can berate himself for defying Martin’s wishes, for refusing to do the one thing Martin has ever asked of him, he’s already reaching for a pen (he had managed to find those eventually) and a sticky note.

 _Martin_ , he scrawls, a bit shakily, _Where are the painkillers? I’ve lost a couple ribs._

He Knows where Martin will be most likely to see it, at least.

In the end Jon half falls asleep, half sort of passes out, at his desk. He wakes up some time later to find a bottle of pills and, next to it, a cup of tea that’s gone cold. There is no message, but he can read between the lines: _Take care of yourself._ Lonely or not, Martin is still Martin, it seems, and there is a comfort in that, especially since Jon still doesn’t truly know what kind of monster he himself is becoming.

The note sets a dangerous precedent for both of them. But, well, Jon has a suicide mission to get on with. Best not to hope for much more than he deserves. There are no second chances. So he tries not to think about it.

Then he climbs out of the coffin, and he is, if possible, even more lost and alone despite Daisy’s best efforts. So he writes, knowing it’s unlikely to make any real difference. He could use the tape recorder, obviously, but it feels nice to have some small part of himself that he can pretend does not belong to the Beholding.

 

* * *

 

Martin, meanwhile, tries very hard not to worry about Jon and fails spectacularly.

He doesn’t know precisely what stupid, self-sacrificing thing the Archivist has done to himself this time. He’d read the note half hoping Jon meant to write that he broke some ribs, which would have been bad enough, but the off-white bone casually sitting atop a pile of statements like a paperweight quickly dispels that notion. How does someone even lose a rib? Martin doesn’t want to know.

He just wants Jon to be okay. Needs him to be okay. Martin had felt so powerless during those months he spent by his bedside. And before that, when Jon would come back to the archives, hurt and haggard, and all Martin could do was offer a cup of tea.

Well, old habits. He has to do something.

Peter will not approve but, technically, he hasn’t broken any rules. If anything, he feels more lonely.

He doesn’t really expect the one-sided conversation to continue, but it does.

It is Jon’s second message (a brief goodbye, a longer apology for everything that is his fault and several things that aren’t) that drives Martin to pile up tape recorders and wait anxiously, shrouded in solitude, for him to emerge from the coffin with Daisy in tow. Martin slips away unseen.

 _Not dead, in case you were wondering_ , says the third, dirt-streaked note. _Turns out the rib might have been a bit hasty._

Jon doesn’t know. Maybe it’s better that way.

The sporadic messages increase after Jon’s return from the Buried.

_At the pub last night there was a trivia question about poetry. ~~I wish~~ Never mind._

_What kind of tea is good for sleep? Besides chamomile. I hate chamomile._

_Thank you for the tea. ~~I’m sorry I never appreciated~~_

_Is it wrong to sleep if I’m pretty sure my dreams hurt people?_

_Yesterday I saw a spider and didn’t kill it. I carried it all the way outside on a folded up statement. Got some odd looks. Well, odder than usual._

_Do you think it’s possible to die from knowing too much about The Archers? I have a terrible headache._

_I’m almost nostalgic for the worms. Sorry. I just mean it all felt simpler somehow. ~~I mis~~_

_I doubt you’re even reading these. Sometimes I think all I do is talk into the void. But it’s fine. I’m fine._

Jon’s fumbling attempts to reach out are so sincere, so achingly earnest, that it hurts. Every message threatens to unravel all the progress he’s made. Martin can’t reply directly, but neither can he bring himself to ignore them, let alone tell Jon to stop. A desperate, selfish part of him wants nothing more than to cling to that lifeline. But he can’t. He has to keep them all safe. He’s the only one who can. He has to make sure the remainder of Jon’s ribs stay where they belong, right next to the Archivist’s surprisingly soft heart. And he will, no matter the cost. Even though it breaks Martin’s own heart to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @podcastenthusiast so we can all cry about these idiots.


End file.
